


Know Me Crazy

by peterparkr



Category: Iron Man (Movies), Marvel Cinematic Universe
Genre: Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Friends to Lovers, Hurt/Comfort, Implied/Referenced Child Abuse, Implied/Referenced Homophobia, M/M, MIT Era
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-08-17
Updated: 2019-08-17
Packaged: 2020-09-02 13:18:11
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,755
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20276536
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/peterparkr/pseuds/peterparkr
Summary: “Let’s drive around,” Tony says.James sighs, glancing towards his abandoned bedroom where he could be sleeping right now if his best friend wasn’t a disaster.





	Know Me Crazy

**Author's Note:**

> I know I usually write irondad stuff but I love rhodeytony so much! And there’s just not enough content for them so here’s my little contribution. Enjoy!

Three sharp knocks resonate throughout James’ apartment. He glances at the clock—11 PM, late enough that it could only be a handful of people. Just as he gets up to open the door, it starts rattling, knocks coming in quick succession, in some approximation of a beat.

That narrows it down to one person. 

“Hey, Tones,” James says as he opens the door.

Tony grins up at him. He looks sober which is a vast improvement from the last time James saw him. The only things that suggest anything is wrong are the fake quality of his smile and the slightly stilted way that he is holding himself. He’s like a puppet of his own design and the strings are held taught, keeping everything in place. It’s always an act for him. James is pretty sure that he’s one of the only people who can see through it—or maybe others do and they just don’t care.

“Rhodey! Honeybear! Sweetheart!” Tony slinks past him and flops over the back of the couch.

_ Always  _ an act, always over the top. It’s gotten worse in the time that James has known him. It takes longer now to coax a more real version out from under all the flash and grandiosity. 

“What are you doing here, man?” James carefully doesn’t say that Tony was supposed to be at his family’s mansion for the holidays, but they both know what he’s hinting at.

“Oh, Rhodes, you’re much more fun.”

James squeezes in next to the sprawled form on the couch. Just as soon, Tony leaps to his feet. He’s not one to stay still for long.

“Let’s drive around,” Tony says.

James sighs, glancing towards his abandoned bedroom where he could be sleeping right now if his best friend wasn’t a disaster.

But, he had signed up for the disaster the first time Tony—a kid really, at the time, both of them had been and in some ways still are—looked up at him with big doe eyes that had quickly hardened as the class paired off into lab partners. It was the first day of their freshman year—nobody had noticed that the scrawny 15-year-old in physics lab was a Stark, so nobody had approached the smaller and younger individual. James couldn’t leave Tony hanging then and he can’t do it now. If someone got him drunk enough, he might even admit that he loves the disaster—just a little.

It’s a rich boy’s car, but James stopped feeling any sort of jealousy or resentment about those sorts of things around Tony a few years back. They zip through Cambridge until they hit mostly empty stretches of single-lane roads where Tony drives even faster, drifting around curves, blasting hard rock. 

“Where are we going?” James has to yell to be heard—not just over the music, but the wind rushing through the car’s open top as well.

Tony shrugs and turns down the volume a few notches. “You didn’t call me, after I went home.”

He stares straight ahead at the road. James studies his hands. Tony had been a mess the night before he left. James had to diffuse three fights in three different frat basements before finally just dragging Tony home. And the punk had the audacity to yell at him for it. Tony had already left campus by the time James had woken up the next morning.

It was bad, sure, but not the worst thing that Tony has done, and definitely not the most angry that James has been at him. 

“You didn’t call me, either,” he decides to say.

“Oh.” Tony’s eyes dart over to him before returning forward. “Okay.”

It’s an uncharacteristically non-snarky answer. James never knows if that kind of thing is a good sign or not. Sometimes, it means that Tony’s relaxing out of his public persona, other times it means that he’s verging on a breakdown. 

It’s a bit suicidal to ask Tony any kind of personal question while he’s in the driver's seat, but James does it anyway. “Everything good, Tones?”

Instead of answering, Tony unbuckles his seatbelt. 

“Tony,” James says it low, like a warning. “What are you—”

“Take the wheel,” Tony commands.

“What?”

“Take it.”

He lets go of it and James lunges over the console to grip it, heart racing. Tony stands on his seat, grabbing the top of the windshield to steady himself. 

“What the fuck, man?” James yells, twisting to look up at him.

Tony just laughs, releases the windshield and throws his hands in the air, whooping. He starts screaming some of the lyrics to whatever song is playing. 

Headlights come around the bend ahead of them, and it’s really difficult to drive from the wrong side of the car. James overcorrects, swerves to the right. Tony sways to the left, nearly tumbling out of the car. He ends up curled on his seat, holding where his abdomen hit the side of the car on his way down. He’d left the car on cruise control for his little escapade, so it plows forward, off-road. James dodges trees and rocks as best he can.

“Hit the brakes!” he screams. “Tony, hit the damn brake!”

Tony complies and they screech to a halt. James’ head slams into the dashboard. He lets it rest there for a moment before releasing his death-grip on the wheel and shifting the car into park. He sinks back against his seat to ride out the waves of adrenaline. His hands shake and his heart threatens to break through ribcage. 

And Tony bursts out laughing, clutching his side and wincing every few seconds before hitting another fit of hysteria.

James blinks at him in shock for a moment. Then, he exits the car, slamming the door behind him without a word. He goes back to the road and starts walking alongside it. It’s childish and stupid because they’re way too far from campus to get there on foot in any reasonable time.

“Rhodey, wait!”

James doesn’t turn around or change his pace, even though Tony’s running to catch up.

“Rhodey, Rhodey, Rhodey.” Tony grabs his shoulder, trying to get James to acknowledge him.

He shrugs off the hand, keeps moving forward.

“You’re okay, right?” Tony asks.

James spins toward him. “Are you even going to apologize? Would it kill you to say ‘sorry’? What the hell was that? You could’ve gotten us both killed!”

“Well, if you really think about it, my hands weren’t on the wheel when we crashed.” Tony’s smirking—actually  _ smirking _ at him like this is all some elaborate joke.

James’ face must look as murderous as he feels because Tony pales.

“Wait, Rhodey,” he says as James stalks away. “I’m sorry!”

“Too late! Those should have been the first words out of your mouth, instead of laughing like a damn hyena!” 

“Please, I’m sorry. Come back to the car.”

James stops and loops back. It’s not because of Tony. His head is starting to pound and he won’t make it back to campus by the time the sun comes up without the car. 

“Your head is bleeding,” Tony points out as James passes him. “Shit, fuck, your head is bleeding a lot.”

Tony shuffles alongside him, trying to reach up towards the cut on his forehead. James slaps his hand away. Blood starts to roll down his cheek. He wipes it off every time the stream gets too close to his chin.

By the time they get back to the car, Tony is reciting information that he got out of some textbook or medical journal which is one of the surest signs that he’s freaking out.

“Head wounds bleed heavily because the face, and the scalp, have so many blood vessels right beneath the skin. Even minor cuts can bleed a lot, making them look worse than they actually are.” His incessant chatter is making James head hurt worse. “In the event of a head wound, have the person lie down. Press firmly on the cut with gauze or a cloth for fifteen minutes—“

“Okay, kid genius.” Rhodey opens the car door and slides inside. “We both already know that you’ve got a lot of info stored up there. You can stop showing off.”

“You might have a concussion too. In the event of a concussion—“

“Nope, nope, shh.”

Tony pops the trunk and rifles through it. James sighs, leans against the headrest and closes his eyes.

“You can’t sleep.” Tony’s next to him now. “In case you have a concussion.”

Tony presses a button-up shirt that he must have had in his trunk onto James’ head. He’s blinking rapidly and can’t seem to hold the shirt in place, his hands trembling. 

“Tony, calm down. I’m fine.”

“No you’re not,” he blurts out. “I’m sorry. That was so stupid. I’m so sorry, Rhodey.”

James pushes Tony’s hands off the button-up and replaces them with his own. “I’ll hold this, okay? Are you good to drive back to my place? How’s your side? You fell hard.”

Tony’s eyes flash. “Stop, I’m  _ fine _ . You’re the one that’s hurt.”

James doesn’t answer and Tony walks around to the other side of the car, lowering himself onto his seat gingerly. The car starts and Tony eases it back onto the road. 

It’s the slowest that James has ever seen Tony drive. A car even passes them and it doesn’t send the boy into competitive fury. He just hunches over the steering wheel as it goes by.

“The bleeding should have stopped by now,” Tony whispers. “Check if it stopped.”

James does what he says, and it has, mostly. He tells Tony as much, expecting it to relax the rigid line of his spine and ease his shoulders down from their current position just under his ears. It seems to have the opposite effect

Tony pulls up outside James’ building.

“Do you need help getting inside?” His voice is so quiet and  _ not  _ Tony.

James eyes him worriedly. “I don’t need help. But, find a parking spot. Stay here tonight—the little bit that’s left anyway.”

Tony shakes his head, refuses to look at James. “I think I’ve done enough.”

“Cut the melodrama for one minute, okay? Just park the car.”

Tony does it, expression unreadable. He follows James up to his apartment without a word and flops on the couch with only slightly more constrained limbs than he had earlier in the evening.

James goes to his kitchen to wipe the dried blood off his face, plastering a bandage to the cut just in case it decides to start oozing again. He grabs a bag of frozen dinosaur chicken nuggets and throws it in Tony’s direction with a warning call. 

“Put it on you side, you probably bruised some ribs.”

Tony turns the bag over and his lips turn slightly upward when he realizes what they are. James sits next to him, with some sense of déjà vu. This time, though, Tony doesn’t spring to his feet and race out the door for his car. He presses the frozen bag to his side, instead.

“I am sorry,” he mumbles. “Really.”

“I know.”

“You’re too good to me.” Tony’s aiming for sarcasm, but it doesn’t quite meet the mark.

James doesn’t know how to answer. Tony can be tough to deal with, but there are far worse people in the world. And he does believe that Tony tries his best—most of the time. He wishes that he’d had more people who were good to him. Especially when he was a kid. Every child deserves people who treat them right. They’ve never explicitly talked about it, but James is pretty sure that Tony didn’t have much of that growing up. The kid never learned how to cope, just buries his feelings until they blow up in a dramatic fashion. Tonight, his behavior was the most erratic that James had ever seen it.

“What happened at home?” It’s probably a mistake to ask (he’d learned that in the car), so he watches Tony’s face carefully, waiting for something even worse to happen. “Is everything okay?”

To James’ surprise, Tony doesn’t immediately change the subject or react with anger. He just fiddles with his hands a bit. James waits.

“Have you seen any tabloids?”

They’re not something that James goes looking for. “Nah, man.”

“Well, I’m in them.” Tony laughs but it sounds hollow.

James frowns. Tony grew up in the spotlight, and doesn’t have the cleanest reputation. He’s almost always in some tabloid or another—whether the latest gossip is the truth or not is a different story, but Tony’s usually on one of the many pages, often the cover. He never cares about the lies, barely ever bats an eye when they spill the truth, so this must be a big one.

James scoots closer to Tony, leaning into his side. “What’s in them, Tones?”

“Someone took pictures of me and um—a guy. I think it’s at a party or something. I don’t know. They blurred his face—and junk.” Another empty laugh, but Tony’s eyes are shining when they meet James’.

The words almost paralyze James. He’d known that Tony slept with pretty much anyone, regardless of gender. And Tony has tried to kiss James enough times over the past three years that the message had come across loud and clear. But, he also knows that Tony’s much more careful with the men. He’ll drag a woman of the week out on the streets and brashly make out with them, or on some notable occasions, more than that, in public places. But, the guys are always dragged behind locked doors or in dimly lit rooms.

“That’s—fuck.”

Tony pushes away from James, starts gesticulating wildly. “It’s not a big deal, really.”

“Tony—”

“No, listen.” James doesn’t miss the way he keeps rubbing a hand under his eyes to stop tears before they escape. “They’ve speculated that I’m gay or bi or something since I was like 12. It’s not even news really.”

“I think that makes it even more screwed up. 12? Jesus.”

“It’s really fine.”

“I’m glad you think so, but I’m about ready to find everyone involved in getting that printed and beat the shit out of them.” James doesn’t consider himself a violent person, so he’s surprised to find that the words ring true.

“It’s fine,” Tony insists, but the words are offset by heavy breathes and more quick swipes under his eyes.

James pulls Tony in and holds him close so that his face nuzzles into the crook between his neck and shoulder. Tony’s body quickly starts shaking with silent sobs. They stay like that until the places where their bare skin meets are sticky with sweat and the collar of James’ shirt is soaked through. But, he isn’t going to be the one to pull away. He feels like that would be a betrayal somehow, to be the one to let go first. Tony needs to know that someone is there for him, unconditionally.

Finally, Tony’s grip on the back of his shirt loosens and he rolls over so that he’s just leaning on James shoulder rather than wrapped around him. 

“Were your—what did you dad do when he saw it?”

Tony doesn’t say anything, but a non-answer is an effective answer in this case. James adds Howard Stark to his hit list.

“I’m sorry, Tony.” He feels the words in such a profound way that his body seems to ache with them.

Tony’s head shakes on James’ shoulder. “Don’t say that. I’m the one who should be saying it— _ I’m  _ sorry.”

“I’m over it. I mean, I’ll complain about it forever, probably, but I forgive you. Just, don’t do it again or I’ll—” James tries to think of a suitable threat, but all of them seem either idle or too harsh for the already wrecked person beside him. “I don’t know what I’ll do, but you won’t like it.”

Tony’s head comes up off his shoulder and before James realizes what’s happened, lips are tangling with his own. For the second time tonight, he’s frozen, until he isn’t and he pushes Tony away.

Hurt flashes across Tony’s face before he swallows and hides it. “I’m 18 now. You’re only two years older than me. You have nothing to worry about.”

He lunges forward again, but James leans out of reach. When he meets Tony’s eyes again, the hurt is gone, replaced with anger.

“What?” he demands. “What’s the problem?”

James sighs. “Just—not right now, okay?”

Tony crosses his arms. “Nope, not okay. Don’t make excuses. Just tell me that you don’t like me like that.”

“Tony—”

“Just say it!”

Rhodey tries to pull him back into his chest, but it’s the wrong move. Tony springs away from him and bolts for the door. Rhodey leaps over the back of the couch to intercept him on the way.

“Move.” Tony glares up at him.

“No, just stay, please,” he begs.

Tony’s nose twitches. “Then, say it. It’s fine if you don’t want me. Just  _ tell me. _ ”

James feels dangerously close to crying now. “That’s not it. You know it’s not.”

“Then, what?”

“You’re just doing this because you’re upset and I’m here.”

It’s like someone presses a pin into Tony. He visibly deflates, all the rigidity of his muscles sinks away so much so that James is almost afraid he’ll crumple to the ground.

“What? Rhodey.” He looks confused. “That’s not why.”

James backtracks a little. “I don’t think it’s on purpose.”

Tony’s face floats back into the blank expression that James hates. “What.”

“You do stuff like this, you know you do. You get reckless. I don’t want to be that.”

“This isn’t that.”

“Then wait until, I don’t know, the morning or something. Some time when you’re not so—” James trails off. There’s no adjective to describe it that won’t come off as offensive, and he doesn’t mean it that way. It’s just a fact.

“Okay, let me get this straight.” James does a double-take because Tony’s suddenly back to almost normal, a small smirk playing across his lips. “You’re into me, but think that I’m not really into you because I’m a deeply troubled individual who makes questionable decisions. So, you want me to wait to make a move until I’m in a semi-stable mood.”

“Um.” James blinks. “Yeah, that about sums it up.”

The smirk grows a few centimeters. “Easy.”

James isn’t surprised when nothing happens the next morning. He’s a little disappointed, but not surprised in the slightest. He knows Tony. It’s better this way than if he hadn’t stopped anything from happening last night.

Tony stays at his apartment for the next few weeks. It’s not like the guy has any shortage of residences he could go to. He has his own apartment about a block away. But, James rarely minds his company and as blasé as Tony has tried to be about it since that first night, he’s going through a difficult time.

The spring semester starts and it becomes James’ turn to pick fights at parties. The pictures had traveled fast and while most people still kiss up to Tony because of his name, some take the opposite approach, shouting slurs, pouring drinks on his head, roughing him up. James doesn’t have the patience for it and it’s an interesting reversal to have Tony be the one dragging  _ him  _ out of a frat house.

It’s not the only change. 

One Friday night, James stumbles over to Tony after being on the winning side of a beer pong tournament for more rounds than he could keep track of.

“‘M a pro,” he says. “Pong pro.”

Tony laughs. “Yeah, you are. Great work, stud. If only it was a marketable skill.”

James pauses and squints. “Am I more drunk than you?”

“It appears so.”

It doesn’t make any sense, especially in his inebriated state. “Why?”

“Self-improvement,” Tony shrugs.

Tony still skips classes (he definitely doesn’t need the lectures, though James would never say that aloud), but less than he used to. He hasn’t brought anyone home since he started staying at James’ place every night. He sometimes even takes breaks when working on a project to eat meals. He starts to drive just as fast again, but takes curves at a slightly slower pace.

It’s confusing. Good—amazing actually, but confusing. Because based on all previous experiences with Tony, he should be spiraling right now. Freshman year, he’d flunked one test because he’d showed up crossed out of his mind and the James couldn’t get him out of a lab for weeks—didn’t see him eat a single meal during the time period.

Having your sex photos leaked, outing you to the world and your abusive father, trumps a failed test. And yet, Tony seems to be thriving in his own sort of way.

They sleep in the same bed. Not in a weird way. It’s just that James’ apartment only has one and he’s not going to make Tony sleep on the couch.

One night, a few months into the semester, James slides in next to Tony, who’s already laying on the other side, staring at the ceiling.

“Hey,” he says.

“Hi,” James replies, the word tilting upwards like a question.

Tony sits up and leans over, movements slow so that James has every opportunity to stop him. He presses his lips firmly on to James’ and then pulls back, searching his face. All James can do is stare up.

“I’m still kind of a disaster,” Tony says. “Always will be, a little. And I’ll probably mess up a ton. But, I’m really trying.”

Warmth spreads through every inch of James’ body. Tony hadn’t just waited until the next morning, he’d waited until he thought he was actually on the right track. James can tell he is  _ really _ trying, the changes have been evident. And as for the disaster part.

“That’s just you,” he says. “I, um, like disasters.”

Tony grins and ducks his head. “Well, I like you.”

It’s so sincere. James can’t suppress a laugh. He can’t believe this is happening.

Tony turns red, barks out some forced laughter. “Damn, too cheesy. Ridiculous.”

James grabs the top of Tony’s shirt and drags him back down, kisses him until they run out of air.

“I like cheesy, too,” he says, panting a little. “When it’s you.”

Tony’s face lights up. “Cheesy disasters, huh?”

James leans into him and nods against his chest.

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks for reading!!!
> 
> If you like irondad I’d love for you to check out my other works!
> 
> Come find me on [tumblr!](https://peterparkrr.tumblr.com)


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